He stared down at his coffee cup. He'd only tried getting out of therapy a couple of times but he'd suffered the consequences for doing so, confined to a room as part of time out and rostered on extra cleaning duties. And no, he didn't want to prolong his stay here but damn, he found those therapy sessions hard.

He just threw Wilson a look that silently said, 'of course I do'. He didn't know how realistic it was going to be, being home by the time the baby was born. That was one of the things he hated about being in here - the unknown, on so many levels. Not just the unknown of whether he'd actually pull through this, like he'd confided in Cuddy earlier, but how long he was going to be here.

"Over my dead body," House retorted about Foreman's coup. "For all I know, I could be out of here within a few weeks and back in work. And even if I'm not, this dictator will never be overthrown. Foreman will return to his rightful place on the food chain sooner or later."

He sniffed and yet again fished the tissue out of his pocket to wipe his nose. He glanced at Cuddy as he did so. Wilson bringing up maternity leave reminded House of how he'd said he wanted to be around more for the first couple of months. He'd even said he'd cut his hours down. And now... well, now he didn't know what the future held.

He moved his hand back to Cuddy's hand still on his thigh and he gave it a small rub.